The Way You Breathe

There’s something in the way you breathe;

Drawing in respiration like a wave pulling back from the shore.

No sign of relief, no noticeable exhale.

There’s something in the way you dream;

reaching for solace in your pocket like precious, rusty coins.

Chasing grandeur thoughts, and daring the grim reaper.

There’s something in the way you wake;

feeling the surmountable expedition of a hard lived life.

Glossy, youthful eyes, sheathing the harrowing pain.

There’s something in the way you feel;

Authenticity beneath a shell of overwhelming surmise.

Wanting acceptance, and longing for connection.

There’s something in the way you fight;

obstinate as an albatross soaring the unforgiving winds.

Feeble and tender, your bruised heart pounds in protest.

There’s something in your will to live;

Pushing through mud of fear, holding onto hard found inclination.

Crawling when you can, standing when you don’t want to.

There’s something in your presence;

A veritable caliber of individuality.

Not always noticed, often times disregarded

Of all the something’s taken for granted,

You feel them the most;

Your arduous and heavy breathing.

The apprehensive reverie in your sleep.

The despondency in your enervated wake.

The sense of fraudulence in your existence.

And still you endure.

Keep fighting for it all.

For a deserving chance to foresee another day.

To wake among the things you love.

To seek and breathe your passions.

And to feel the elation of your essence.